Chapter 9 - The Viral Bloodbath
By 6:00 PM that evening, the video hit the internet.
The venture capitalist from row 4 had uploaded the raw, unedited footage to social media. It was brutal. High definition audio captured every slur, every scream, and the exact moment she poured the drink onto my chest.
The internet did what the internet does best: it went to war.
Within two hours, the hashtag #PradaRacist was the number one trending topic worldwide. Internet sleuths identified Eleanor Belmont instantly. They found her social media accounts, her charity board memberships, and her country club affiliations.
The fallout was apocalyptic.
The elite Manhattan charities she chaired released public statements severing all ties with her. The country club revoked her membership. Her high-society friends, desperate to avoid the blast radius of her toxicity, publicly denounced her and blocked her numbers.
Meanwhile, Apex Industries released a sterile, professional press release confirming the successful hostile takeover of Belmont Logistics, citing "a need for an immediate overhaul of corporate culture and leadership ethics." The stock market loved it. Apex shares surged by 4%, adding hundreds of millions to our market cap.
I sat in the back of my Maybach, sipping a glass of Macallan 25, watching the news coverage on the internal monitor.
My lawyer, sitting across from me, handed me a fresh brief. "The federal prosecutors are moving forward with hate crime enhancements, Marcus. Given the viral nature of the video, they want to make an example out of her. She’s looking at a minimum of three to five years."
May you like
"Good," I said softly, staring out the window at the glittering lights of the city I had just conquered. "Make sure our civil suits run concurrently. I want her sued for the exact cost of the suit, the documents, and emotional distress. I want her to feel the weight of every single penny."
"It's already filed," he smiled.
